Abby's Amazeing Prize
by JMK758
Summary: Abby's date has surprises for her. This story continues my style "... and your Favorite." Who she's with is up to you, you cast her partner. I have made it vague enough that you can cast any male character. Rated M for Consensual Sex.
1. The Game Has Rules

This story continues my style that was begun with Star Trek Enterprise and continued with others. It's a style I refer to as "... and your Favorite."  
Oh, and the title is not a misspelling, it's a forewarning.  
The principal character, of course, is Abby Sciuto. Who she is with is up to you. You cast her partner. I have made it vague enough that you can cast any male character; past, present or Crossover.  
This is a Mature story for Adults and is Rated 'M' for Consensual Sex.  
Enjoy.

Abby's Amazeing Prize  
by JMK758  
Chapter One  
The Game Has Rules

Abby hops a turn, her long white lab coat flies outward and she glares at the clock on the wall. 1550. _Still _1550! She's checked it three times in the past minute but it's still not changing. All right, it's accurate to the nanosecond but it's not moving! 'Come on, you dumb clock! Can't you move?'

'Okay, 1551 - _took _long enough. Come on. Come _on_.'

Friday is the worst; she longs for him so much the clock taunts her by stopping and too often running backward. When he came down – three times today – always on the case, he'd kept his distance, too far to touch and he acted like they were on camera. Okay they are, but he drove her crazy through every second of his 'drop ins'.

He knew she was suffering. Just being in the same room with him makes her moist, makes her juices _boil _but he does nothing - doesn't kiss her, doesn't touch her - NOTHING!

1552. _Finally_. Eight eternities left before she can meet him and her body's trembling so violently she fears she'll fall off her black and red boots.

She wipes a sheen of perspiration from her face, wishing she could do the same for her entire body, but every touch of the cloth on her body as she moves, or even breathes, emphasizes her nudity.

She's only wearing the long white lab coat and boots. Her collar, wrist bands, skirt, blouse, bra, panties; _everything's _put away since the minute she arrived - eight agonizing hours ago. She's ready for him, has been ready since dawn, ready for everything he wants to do with and to her.

x

155_3_. She's ready to scream, ready to run out, but he's forbidden her to draw attention by leaving before 1600. She never leaves before 1600, usually 2300 and everyone knows it, so he won't let her draw attention to their trysts by doing anything out of the ordinary.

But out of the ordinary is being without panties or bra or tee shirt or–

She can feel herself even if she's forbidden from touching. He won't let her touch herself for fear of wasting an orgasm but her labia are so hot and wet that if she _breathes _wrong they'll convulse all on their own and hot cream will trail down her legs!

She stands straight, legs pressed together and it's the worst thing she can do, for the sensation is like lightning blasting her crotch.

155_4._

xxx

The moment she sees him she dashes across the garage and crashes into him, their open mouthed kiss hot warring tongues. She licks, her tongue sliding along and about his and the sensations chase down to her toes, lightning searing her body as he holds her so close she'd willingly pull him down atop her if he'd just take her here and now. She presses to him, held in the tight grip of his arms, wishing he'd caress - even attack - her very willing body.

She's too aware of her nudity, her vulnerability beneath the thin white lab coat and the feel of his body against hers. If he reaches through or under her coat or just grabs her through it she'll shriek into his mouth and ruin her lab coat with the biggest eruption since Pompeii.

x

Her questing hands search his body as she longs for him to do to her, and when his right hand slips under the back hem of her coat to cup her bare cheek she moans deep into his mouth, wishing he'd take her right here. Right now! Her pussy clenches in desperate need, seeming to constrict all the way up to her eyebrows.

Her breasts burn with the feel of his chest under jacket and shirt, movement of the material over her nipples makes her crazy and if he'd just reach a little lower, further...

"Not yet," he whispers into the kiss, itself a talented act. He breaks the contact, but not that of now both hands cupping her cheeks, pressing her hot, wet groin into him. "Save it for the surprise," he whispers.

"I _can't_."

He releases her ass, presses her shoulders, pushes her back. "Get in. Let's get going."

x

She bites off a whimper - she wants_ him_ in - but she has to take it. She's his. She's given herself over completely for the next 24 hours. She must follow his slightest command, must obey his every whim, no matter how much her overburdened nerves tear her apart. He's promised that if she does what he says it'll be the best sex of her life and he's not a liar.

He can't be. He's hers tomorrow evening - if she can survive the next twenty four hours without her body spontaneously combusting - and she'll have to depend upon her orgasms to douse the conflagration.

This is their game.

She can only get in the car, memories of their myriad volcanic conflagrations driving her.

When they're in, he turns to her. "Don't forget the belt."

"You just want me in bondage."

"May be."

His tone sends shivers through her. She'd meant it teasingly, there's less tease in that warm voice.

x

When they're past the main gate and on M Street SE the drive is torturous; he's so close and while he's driving she can't do anything. But she opens the top two buttons of her lab coat, presses the left side material to her chest, the right side well away and turns slightly left to give him a perfect view of her breast.

The car windows are up, she opens hers just an inch, just to feel the limited breeze play along her skin, lick her bare flesh. It gets into her lab coat with her, licks her bare breasts as she longs for his tongue to do it.

He reaches with his right hand and his fingertips gently pet up and down her spiked nipple and flares of lust, of need, charge through her. The hills and valleys of his rising and falling fingers make her moan. The need for him flares in her and she's ready, about to ruin his leather seat.

Her breath is stolen, short and erratic as she leans forward into his teasing hand. Her trembling body begs for his firmer touch, but it only makes him expand the area of his petting further up her slope and down to where he almost cups her breast before going up again.

"You're driving me _ca-razy_."

"Don't make offers you don't intend to keep."

She opens the lowest two buttons and drapes the material aside, baring her creamy thighs but only one button is closed before her stomach, just short of exposing herself completely. She doesn't care if anyone in a nearby car can see her giving herself completely to this man. "I'm keeping this."

He lowers his right hand and, still driving at a sedate 50 miles per - w_hy can't he do 90?_ - rests his hand high on her thigh, a bare three inches from her trembling lips and she's sure he can feel her quivering. She reaches to guide his hand.

"Don't touch. You might make me drive off the road."

x

She pulls her hands back. She won't touch herself, that's cheating. She wants him to bring her off but if he won't do it then she's helpless, caught between his rules and her needs.

He's three inches from her and she leans back, spreads her legs wider in blatant offer.

He just leaves his hot hand there, three inches from her desperately quivering lips. He has only to move his pinky and he'll be petting her wet labia. He's too close and too far from the prize she's so desperate to have him claim. She's shaved smooth and every tiny breeze plays across her lips, and under the still touch of his hot palm she feels the hair on her head curling.

"Pull over!" she begs.

"Not 'till we're there."

She wants to grab him even if he drives off the road. One touch and she'll explode, scream so shrilly they'll hear her back at the Navy Yard, certainly ruin his upholstery - and he won't even move to close those last three inches!


	2. Prisoner of Lust

Chapter Two  
Prisoner of Lust

Abby's going out of her mind, and even begging won't stop him from this delicious torture – or start him.

She tries to sit further forward in the passenger seat, her legs lewdly spread, her breaths reduced to erotic gasps she can't believe he can refuse, but he won't take her or ease the sensations and needs that drive her insane.

Secret sex with him is always more than she expects. He's such an imaginative lover he keeps her continually in wonder. He works so close and he's completely shattered her concentration. He never comes to her at work other than in 'business' - and when they're alone but he's at arm's length it drives her out of her mind.

But every time, after they're together for a night, she can't think of anything but what they've done. Her tingling body won't let her. It's most intense when she knows he's coming for her; those are the days her body screams for him.

He has two rules she must obey, because she's promised to and she knows it'll ruin things if she breaks them even when she's seconds from leaping out of her skin. She can never reveal their clandestine sex and, no matter how the tension mounts in her, no matter how much she thinks of him, longs for him, desperately _needs_ what he's going to do for her, she may not relieve her mounting tension which by noon always has her wanting to scream for release and shriek at the number of hours that remain.

Today's his day. For the next twenty four hours, until Saturday 1600, she's his and his plan is driving her insane. He's promised her something completely different and he's being more secretive than usual. He's only told her she may not wear bra or panties, but though the sweltering summer day makes this restriction a convenience, she'd've done without underwear even if he hadn't insisted.

But today he'd insisted upon more. Other than her lab coat she could not wear collar or wrist bands, she could not wear tee shirt or skirt, she could not wear anything!

Now, as he drives too slowly and they pass close to perhaps not-so-oblivious commuters, her lab coat open but for one button at her stomach, her legs spread wide and his hand too still on her thigh, she feels more naked - more wanton - than she has in years.

x

She flashes back to the day he'd first shaved her. That was his first move and had defined certain aspects of sex for her. He'd made it clear from the beginning how much he dislikes any interference either to his mouth or hard member.

Since then, every time she wears panties or thong – or doesn't – she feels virginal, vulnerable. That she knows he alone knows how utterly bare, how open to him she is, only makes the anticipation, and the ultimate gratification, so much better.

That moment had been dreamlike, and she's dreamt about it so many times since.

xx

Laying down within her coffin, her right leg draped over the edge and her left knee high, resting on the velvet lined lid, spread wide for him, what he'd done astonished and thrilled her.

First he took from a bag an electric razor and, starting at the top of her mons, used the trimmer to remove every bit of her fur right down to her skin.

The vibrations of the razor thrilled her, but she very carefully held still as he got closer and closer - and _closer_. He didn't get too close, not once did she feel a bite on her sensitive and ever moistening labia, but inch after inch of her fur vanished, leaving her vulnerable, defenseless, available...

His.

When he'd seemed done, when the intimate vibrations stopped, he was only half done. Closer, more intimate work with cream and straight edge followed until she was completely smooth, not the tiniest hair remained to interfere.

The cream itself caused its own tingling on her newly virginal flesh, and her skin, untouched for years without the protective barrier of pubic fur, magnified every touch to the point that a stray breeze became a sexual caress.

For the first time in years she was completely open, absolutely vulnerable and those maddening sensations left her longing for his mouth, his tongue, his hands, his long thick penis.

x

He'd stood looking at her and her vulnerable need, and now her far more sensitive body was driving her crazy. She'd already had him but now considered that sex only a prelude to this one. Every stray breeze from the slowly rotating ceiling fan above her open coffin touched her more sensually than she could ever remember. Her virginal flesh was maddeningly responsive, her wet lips quivering in her need. She felt his eyes petting her, his gaze entering her wet, parted lips and if he wasn't going to touch her she'd ease her own mounting need.

She'd reached down for herself, for her thrumming clitoris, her tingling lips so utterly bare and longing, but he gently caught her hands.

"No, you do not touch yourself," he reminded her of his second rule.

"Touch me. _Take_ me."

His first touch on her labia was like a billion volts surging from her pussy to electrocute her.

x

Since that night she'd kept herself perfectly smooth, perfectly available, for everything he wanted to do to her.

He was the only one who knew, as she went about her days, as she stood before him discussing some case or other, how naked she was, how available she was to him. Even with panties or, if she was feeling naughty, a G-string, she was aware of how vulnerable she was to him, and that he knew it too drove her mad. He knew, though he never acted in her lab or elsewhere, how open she was to any sensation, any touch of his hand, his lips, his….

xx

Work today was a nightmare. It was impossible to concentrate. He'd told her their twenty four hours would start at 1600 but from morning she was to be without blouse, without skirt, without bra, without _panties_.

She was so aware of her defenseless breasts and every breath rubbed the material of the white lab coat upon her, teased her hard nipples until they felt like firecrackers going off with every stroke of the blouse along them.

But the most maddening was to be without the protection of panties. Every time she moved, her lab coat teased her bare ass or, a thousand times worse, her ultrasensitive crotch. Even standing still in the air conditioned lab, the material petted her in those slight breezes and attacked her wherever she stepped.

x

And the Agents who visited her lab, they were the most maddening of all. She had to be there, or walk around, with men and women who she imagined knew she was naked. She was sure she couldn't help dozens of unintentional flashes – there aren't that many buttons on this coat. She imagined the men could _smell _her sex, that they knew she was a cat in heat.

She imagined she felt every man's eyes caress her and she's sure her erect nipples under her teasingly moving lab coat gave her away. Standing there, she knew they knew and she wanted them. She was vulnerable, open - and she knew they knew.

She was sure the first man who innocently brushed against her would drive her over the edge and she'd grab him and...

x

But it didn't happen. Every time she crossed the lab her bare, moist pussy tingled, and it positively thrummed whenever any agent looked at her. Every time she sat down at her office chair the pad pressed her and she bit her cheek to keep from moaning.

Fourteen hundred was nightmare, fourteen thirty was agony, by fifteen she'd gladly have thrown herself on the next agent to walk in and beg him to take her.

Sixteen hundred _finally_ came and she's sure she's never rushed out of her lab faster. She'll tell anyone who asks tomorrow that she got sick - if she can walk well enough to come in on Monday.

xxx

By the time he turns the car left onto a thin private road, long after they've left the suburbs. she has no idea where they are. He hasn't moved his hand but her muscles quiver as though her legs are hopping bunnies.

It's taken more willpower than she has to keep her hands from herself; despite her best efforts her hands stroke her breasts. She imagines they're his skillful hands doing everything she needs, but she can't bring herself over.

She's not allowed to. He's assured her that if she breaks the rules she'll enjoy the evening less, yet he doesn't actually stop her. But stroking her own breasts is both breaking the rules and making her tension far worse rather than better.

He doesn't admonish her to stop working her breasts, probably because he knows she's only intensifying the sensations that already tear at her mind. She's not allowed to bring herself to orgasm, so the more she touches herself the higher the rocket soars without exploding and the tighter her muscles strain.

Her nerves are so taut she feels she'll shatter. Her labia twitch and tighten with every beat of her pounding heart and still his hot hand rests on her thigh three inches from her trembling, wet labia. With every bump of the road his hand moves yet doesn't approach and she feels the abortive anticipation every time. The breeze from the slightly open window plays over her breasts and teases her nipples and brushes across her trembling clitoris. She fights to keep her trembling hips still, her legs spread wantonly. She can't get him to touch her, can't even shift forward unexpectedly without breaking their rules but if she can't break this torturous 'second from super nova' soon she'll scream.

x

By the time he turns off the motor her breasts feel like two atomic warheads an instant from detonation and her steaming vagina's trembling like it'd reach out and grab that damned teasing hand.

"Take off your boots and socks."

The tone is assured, as though he knows she'd never disobey or even hesitate. That it's true means little, the command is absolute.

She unbinds and removes her tall black and red boots and in moments her feet are as bare as - save for one button on her lab coat - the rest of her is.

x

He's out of the car, too suddenly away from her and she can't get her shaking hand to work the latch. He comes around, opens the door, a single small paper bag in his hand. He tosses this onto the hood of the car and he draws her out into a fiery kiss.

She moans into his mouth, can't slow her trembling breath and his right hand slips down her body and inside her gaping coat, gently strokes her shaved mons, the small hill sloping to the valley of her vagina, yet he keeps far uphill of her quivering lips.

x

She doesn't recognize this place. She didn't pay attention to the trip and only knows she doesn't earn enough to even look at, let alone drive into, one of these homes and her wonder increases. Every home, separated by acres of lawns, costs more than she'll earn from puberty to old age. He's parked so close to the edge of the driveway that she's standing on the lawn, the grass tickling her bare feet.

"What are we doing here?" she breathes, breaking the kiss as briefly as possible. It takes him almost a minute to be able to say

"House of a good friend."

This is more and more mysterious and she can stand no more mysteries. "What are you doing?"

He pushes her back a few inches, points to her right. "That."

x

The estate, as they'd entered, had been screened by a line of thick evergreens which blocked her view of the green structure until they were past the trees. Now she stares at the seven foot tall, hundred foot 'wall' of green plants and multihued flowers evidently threaded through some support and wonders if he's completely lost his mind.

"Listen," he says, yanking back her attention; mystification having cracked her horniness. "Charley's gone for a few days, said I could use his maze."

She turns back to the wall of plants. At first look it had appeared to be solid, now she sees it's a hundred feet, probably a hundred feet square, of interwoven vines, plants and flowers with a ten foot wide opening in the middle. "A maze?"

"He uses it for entertaining at parties. That's where we're gonna do it."

This declaration turns her back and he pulls her closer, his hot hands firm on her and she tries to put all her need, all her passion, all her lust into this kiss.

It's over too soon.

The flowery green maze stretches forty feet in either direction of the wide opening and all Abby can see is the inner green wall of flowers five feet in.

"Ready?" he asks. He turns her to him and undoes the final button on her white lab coat, pushes it off her bare shoulders and lets it drop in a cloth puddle behind her.

x

She doesn't hesitate now. Lust flaring to full flame, her fingers tremble so much she can barely work the buttons of his shirt, but she gets it open and pushes it out of her way. He wears way too much for a summer evening devoted to passion, so she yanks his shirt from his pants, down his arms and throws it on the manicured lawn as he indulges in fondling her breasts - very thoroughly - and she reaches with shaking hands for his belt. She's so fired she can barely breathe.

She pulls the belt open and the hook of his pants follows. She nearly breaks the zipper, shoves and pulls at pants, tee shirt and underwear to get the cloth interference out of her way. When his thick rod is clear, the reddened tip pointing straight to her broiling vagina, she starts to get down to her knees.

His grip on her shoulders stops her, holds her up on her bare feet.

He backs her against the car, the heat of the engine warming her already hot butt.

He'd tossed the paper bag on the hood beside her, but his hands on her shoulders turn her about to face the car hood and he presses the front of her bare body against the side of the car front, trapping her between two hard heats. She wiggles her bottom, enjoying the feel of his hard shaft between her cheeks.

He pushes her forward, bends her over the heated car hood and she doesn't mind a bit. The heated metal warms her breasts and she imagines how hot they'll be to him when he returns his hands – and more – to them. She spreads her stance wide, her legs far enough apart to make herself entirely vulnerable to him. She's not sure what the green and flowery maze he's shown her has to do with this, but if he wants to take her right here, bent over the hot hood, her breasts and crotch heating more by the second, she's fine with that.

x

He pulls her right arm back and she's happy to reach for him pressed into the crevasse between her cheeks, but a moment later he pulls her hand away from him. She feels something threaded over her questing hand and tugged firmly about her wrist.

She pulls away, her hand now back on the hood near her face, but there's a length of half inch diameter blue silken rope looped about her wrist.

She's still pinned to the warm metal with his warmer member between her cheeks and he pulls the cord taut.

He pulls her right hand back by the rope while he grabs her left wrist, pulls both arms behind her. He positions her forearms level across her back, her right hand cupping her left elbow, her left hand resting upon her right arm, palm down and grasping her elbow.

"You only have to say 'no'."

x

She'd mentioned bondage but as a tease, had never imagined he intended to do it. He's never tied her up before – _no one's_ ever tied her up before – and for an instant 'no' is very close to her lips. But then she remembers her trust; he won't hurt her or let her get hurt, and if he wants to tie her up, to make her as helpless by rope as she is by desire...

She lets silence be her answer as he pulls the loop more firmly about her wrist, wraps the blue rope about her hand that cups her left elbow. He starts to lace the rope over and over again up her left arm, the ties not too tight but very firm.

As he works she feels his hard shaft, nestled up between her cheeks, actually getting harder, hotter, and she wiggles her bum to make his long shaft more welcome. Her breath comes heavier, sharper as he ties her and her heart pounding in her chest drums in her ears.

He knots the ends of the blue laces high up her arm and he actually ties it off near her shoulder with a bow.

In all the time he worked she's held her left hand where he placed it, palm down and fingertips nestled into the bend of her elbow. Now he loops another rope over her left hand, tugs it tight about her wrist and starts lacing it again and again over her hand and up her right upper arm.

As the laces go higher so does her lust. Her forearms are together, hand to opposite elbow, forearms parallel to the ground - good thing she's very limber, but she's thoroughly bound and the bows are far up out of reach near her shoulders.

She's never been tied up before and she can't stop gasping, her racing heart slamming her chest and her pussy trembles to the rhythm. Head pressed to the metal, she hears the drumbeat heavy and fast.

He makes another decorative bow near her shoulder and she can't wait to learn what he'll do next.

She'd only _thought _before that she was his. Now she's utterly helpless, his to do with as he pleases.


	3. Maze

Chapter Three  
Maze

Abby, naked and bent over the warm hood of his car, is securely bound, arms crossed behind her back. Her hands cup or hold opposite elbows and the ropes knotted into whimsically decorative bows up near her shoulders decorate and enhance her vulnerability. She's utterly helpless and completely open to to his desires.

She trusts him, knows he'll never hurt her, but she's completely powerless, unable to resist his slightest whim. She won't say no, she wants everything he's going to do, so she's willingly his and totally helpless.

Bent over, the heated metal pressing her full breasts flat and her crotch sandwiched between hard metal and harder member pressed between her ass cheeks, she's his to do with as he wishes.

He might impale her here, either hard up her boiling, yearning pussy or harder into her tighter ass and she'd scream her lust to the nearest witness half a mile away. He might spank her, turn her curvy ass a bright red beacon of hot pain. He might force her to her knees and feed her of himself or throw her onto the manicured lawn, face up or down and she'll yowl like a cat in heat.

He'd shown her the maze but she's his to do with whatever pleases him.

Helpless and alone, she's his.

x

He lifts her by her shoulders from the car hood and turns her, but all she wants to see is his body, bare as hers and just as hot - and most particularly his hard member, thick and red and ready to pierce her like a lance.

She's thrust out as well and unable to do anything about it. Arms back and crossed behind her, level to the grass at elbow height, her breasts are thrust forward as though begging for him to do anything he wants to them.

She leans slightly back against the warm car, her bum warmed again by the metal, her hips now thrust forward as well and she steps to her left to open herself to him.

"Ready?" he asks.

"_Yes_." Her breath is hushed. She can barely force it above a longing whisper. Trembling, she realizes she means exactly that. _Whatever _he's going to do for, with, to and in her, she's ready.

x

He releases her when she'd rather he take her right on this lawn or even against the warm metal, reaches into the bag and pulls out a large black sleep mask. It's molded to the face, so it'll press close to her eyes, over her nose and cheeks, cut off all view. From the thickness she can tell it'll cut all light very effectively.

"There are rules about finding your way to me in the center of the maze," he tells her. "Blindfolded and without hands, if you want my cock, you have to find it."

Her face so covered, she can see nothing, but she can feel his fingertips petting her outthrust breasts.

"Follow me."

His hands slip away, his fingertips teasing her hard nipples until they're gone, and she knows she has no choice but to follow.

But the hunt will be so worth it.

x

She steps forward, the short grass again teasing her feet, tickling her soles and slipping between her toes as she seeks with her full and sensitive breasts his guiding hands. Rewarded with the feathery touches of his fingertips again caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples, she follows along the grass.

She arches her back even further than the ropes compel, seeks his touches every time he disappears. Over and over again she must find him, and the only way to do this is to wantonly give her breasts to him.

His touch on just her left nipple, a feathery contact, turns her left and, after a few feet she must follow his touches on her right. Two more times she obeys his directions and then he's not touching her anymore.

"Now you have to find me. I'll be in the center."

x

Try as she does, she can't hear him, but he's as naked as she is, bare feet on grass. The only difference between them is she's tied up, chest thrust out, and she's blind.

She steps forward slowly, cautiously, having no clue how deeply he's led her into the maze, not even certain those turns weren't all made outside the puzzle and she's not standing at the entrance now.

She can smell the various flowers that line the maze walls and takes a moment to sort and identify them. Mums, day lilies, roses, lilies, poinsettia, acacia, jasmine, pandorea, honeysuckle, petunia and others combine to make a heady aroma.

Well, if she wants his plow opening her furrow, she'd better begin.

x

She walks slowly, not apprehensive but cautious, but in a few feet something touches her breasts. She stops immediately and very carefully tries to sort out the sensation of unknown petals teasing her sensitive skin, licking at her nipples. She sidesteps right, smelling a mixture of flowers, each as distinct in scent as they would be by color. The petals, each one a different consistency, tease her breasts and tickle her nipples. She hopes there are no roses, for thorns would really spoil the fun.

Her right arm touches flowers and she realizes she's cornered herself, moves left. Coming away from the flowery wall, she turns left and starts ahead.

x

Twelve steps and plants press to her from face to knees, a pleasant sensation but now she must –

Something moves between her legs, makes her gasp as it comes from behind and teases her lips with incredible softness. Still against the soft flowers that tickle her front, she steps with her right foot right to open her legs further. The softness moves forward and back, tickling her labia and kissing her clitoris with incredible softness.

The sensations keep her gasping and the flowers pressed to her out-thrust breasts, her stomach and pubes only intensify the effect, make her gasp harder and tremble against the flowers as, from behind, whatever it is strokes her lips forward and back.

"Ohhhhh! Ahhh! What _is _that?"

"_Pussy _willow."

With a soft moan she steps more widely apart, gives the long, thin frond of hundreds of teeny filaments more access to her.

He slants the soft frond upward and the hundreds of whisker-like cilia play along her clitoris like a bow vibrating the strings of her violin. It rips her breath from her and, flowers pressed to breasts, stomach and teasing her sensitive mons, moaning and gasping more and more urgently, her muscles tensing, she feels her orgasm approach.

The willow goes away.

x

"Noooooo." Hovering on the edge of orgasm, she can only hover as it recedes, recedes, fades, is gone. "You are so _cruel_."

"When you get to the center."

His hands on her bound arms pull her back from the flowers, further reducing the urgency until it's a shadow. She calls to him, but silence is his only answer. Is he here? Far away? On his way to the center? "Why won't you get into the center of _me_?"

Her labia still tingles with the ghost sensations of that teasing frond and she must walk again, not even sure anymore what direction to walk in. She knows the way she came, behind her; the wall before her; now left or right?

She chooses left and within three half steps flower petals stroke her nipples.

She steps to her right, the petals teasing over her breasts, and they're like the softest of dewy tongues.

But finally she gives it up, turns and walks a few feet, but inevitably she's blocked by more flowers.

The aroma is teasing as are the soft touches. They tease her breasts, lick her nipples with every breath and, deep below, other flowers seem to reach for her.

She arches her hips, move them slowly and the petals stroke her, tease her.

x

For a moment she decides to stop walking, moving her body slowly from left to right and back again, playing the flowers across her breasts, stomach and mons. She feels the already gathering dew lick her nipples even as the other flowers reach to pet her intimate lips.

It's hard to tear herself away; the teasing touches feel so good, but ultimately she must stop because what she's working to will feel a thousand times better.

Going the other way gets her eighteen steps before flowers again stroke her breasts. She takes half a step back, turns left and gasps when a warm wet mouth sucks at her right nipple.

x

The tongue that licks her nipple even as more of her breast is suctioned into the hot mouth flares sensation through her. She tries to speak but moans are all she can manage as the wet tongue licking her nipple flashes lightning through her erect nub. His gentle sucking and licking play over her and rip any kind of words from her.

She shifts her hips forward, hoping her desperate moans and gasps sound enough like pleading, but it's not flesh that invades her, it's that soft pussy willow that plays teasingly along her nether lips. It pets her clitoris so gently she can barely feel it but lightning flares through her.

His other hand goes to her left breast, fingertips stroking and caressing her nipple, gently pinching in counterpoint to her gasping breath. She moves her hips forward and back, longing for the soft strokes along her vagina.

She tries to say his name but can't, and the strumming of the thousand hair-like petals forces her to move her hips in opposite time to his strokes, longing for something firmer than the teasing cilia even as she gives herself over to them.

His mouth and tongue are gone from her right nipple, his fingers from her left and she wants to cry but the willow changes from a bow along her wet lips to the upright tip of it spinning against her clitoris.

The soft turning follicles rotating clockwise and counter drive insane sensations through her. She shifts further forward, mewling, gasping, moaning, every muscle tight as the spinning frond oscillates over her trembling clit.

It's driving her out of her mind. The plant is soft enough to thrill, not hard enough to fulfill and she calls out to him through tight mouth. "Please... I need you. I _need_ you!"

"You'll reach the center soon," he assures her, continuing the cilia twirling on her clitoris, his fingers now teasing her trembling wet lips.

"Noooo. I _can't_! I'm begging you. I'm _begging _you!"

The frond is gone. His fingers are gone. But his voice comes from standing before her. "I love it when you beg."

x

The silken cords at her shoulders are pulled loose, the cords very quickly unwound down her arms but as she's freed and she tries to reach the blinding mask he grabs her still bound wrists and pushes her backward, trips her in his grip, eases her onto the grass.

But even as the grass tickles her back and ass and she spreads her legs to welcome him he pulls her arms to her left, does something really fast and then he's moving again, pulling her right arm with him before she's really aware that her left arm is secured out to her side. He tugs her right arm, the cord tightens about her wrist and before she can protest, even to say his name, she's firmly bound, arms stretched out wide, looking up blindly into the sky.

She only has time to fully understand that she's _still _his captive.

"_Wait_!"

x

There's no waiting. There's only his hard body pinning hers and as he kisses her she spreads her legs wider. She opens her mouth to receive his hot kiss, their tongues contesting, invading.

His hand between him guides to her lips and she feels the first inch push hard, invading.

She arches her hips, shifts upward to receive him.

A second later he receives her shriek into his mouth.

The End  
(for us.)


End file.
